How Do I Breathe?
by Cut Throat Sweetheart
Summary: Wilson's Heart changes the life of every single doctor in some way, but even Amber knows that life must go on. A little drabble on all of the doctors, no romance, just thoughts. Written in a unique style.


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Hey guys. You'll notice a little pattern in this fic--yes, every big paragraph is one huge run on sentence. I thought it might be a good way to represent the racing thoughts of each character after such an intense episode. Ratings and reviews are highly appreciated! :]

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Dr. Gregory House is reclining in his office chair tossing a ball up and down and trying to calculate the maximum height of its parabolic path, just as a distraction to numb the pain of today's events that caused his best and perhaps only real friend to lie in a hospital bed as if he were just as dead as the woman, that cut-throat bitch, that beautiful, funny, and maniacal pillar of stone whose body temperature was falling like her chest did on that last breath before he talked to her on the bus, and his imagination runs wild about the horrible things to follow, only to somehow remember that he was still in a coma in the ICU and he couldn't do anything about it anyway.

And in a world of unconsciousness that may or may not have been real, he breathes.

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Dr. Lisa Cuddy is doing what she does best when the times get rough, which is absolutely nothing, except spending the entire day with the one man she loved to hate and practically babysat every day, ignoring the fact that even though she wished she could pass the time with him more often, it would be more enjoyable if he were responsive enough to be that son of a bitch she knew, instead of the patient, the vulnerable one, and she feels helpless, as if he were dead like the patient she had just been notified of, and realizing that it could have just as easily been him, and she just wants him to wake up.

And lost in a light, dreamless sleep, she breathes.

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Dr. James Wilson feels like his head weighs six thousand pounds and he could not keep it up even if he wanted to, and he calls to the heavens and asks a simple question, "Why can't I be happy," and even though he knows he'll have no answer, he asks a million times at the same time, and replays over and over the images of his girlfriend suctioning her last little bit of her unfulfilled life and House, damn House, seizing into a coma that he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted him to come out of because God knows he wouldn't know what to say.

And even though he thinks about never doing it again, he breathes.

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Drs. Eric Foreman, Robert Chase, and Allison Cameron are sitting in a bar faking smiles and talking about things that under the circumstances are totally unimportant but nobody wants to mention it, and in a moment of silence that was anything but awkward, the black one says some silent prayers, the foreigner rubs his throbbing head, and the empathetic one lets a few tears fall for nobody in particular, until they all regain their composure and talk about their mothers, their fathers, and their late husbands, just to realize that everyone's life sucks in some way.

And as if in a masochistic, miserable sort of rhythm, they down their drinks and breathe.

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Dr. Chris Taub is lying in his bed that he and his wife bought for their Princeton home, and he takes in the scent of the warm being next to him as her chest moves up and down in a steady, peaceful rhythm and he can't imagine living without it, without her, even though his record would suggest otherwise, as House would be quick to point out, but it wasn't true, he needed her, in the job he did every day he needed every reminder he could get that life didn't have to be all bad and all suffering, and he strokes her arm softly until he falls asleep.

And in a surprisingly pleasant slumber, he breathes.

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Dr. Lawrence Kutner is alone, as usual, and he can't help but wonder why the bad things always happen to the good people, like Amber, whom he never could hate, whose concern for patients was undeniable even though her concern for other human beings was undetectable, yet she was dead, and Wilson, who wouldn't hurt a fly and did all he could to help, yet he was in a state of shock and misery, and for God's sake, what about him, he was a nice enough guy, he wasn't ugly, he was smart, why the hell was he alone, and he cursed himself for thinking such selfish thoughts when he was alive and unharmed and nobody he loved was just taken off bypass.

And in a state of confusion and utter loneliness, he breathes.

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Dr. Remy Hadley isn't sure her heart can pump blood, her lungs can take in oxygen, her feet can move, her brain can produce thought, or her eyes can open, but somehow she manages to do it all and curses the world, curses herself, curses House for being right, and wishes that POS meant no and NEG meant yes, for she'd rather have all the diseases in the blood borne spectrum and die right then and there than watch herself deteriorate slowly from the same damn disease that ripped her mother from her young hands way too early.

And although it hurts every single time, she breathes.

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Dr. Amber Volakis is no longer alive, and she knows it, and she wants to scream out to the world and ask if it was all a joke, and if so, they could come out now and let her wake up in the hospital bed next to James, but he recognizes the futility and watches all of the doctors she had come to know as they all came to their individual conclusions about their lives, and she thinks to herself, those idiots, if I were there I'd…but there's no ending to a thought like that when you're gone forever.

And she wants to, so very badly, but she cannot breathe.


End file.
